A Nightmare on Elm Street: The Sandman Awaits
by Blackchain119
Summary: A re-telling of Wes Craven's classic movie "A Nightmare on Elm Street". Freddy's powers have been more limited and more psychologically scarring than Craven's questionable choice to allow dreams to create physical damage without physical forces, something that always bugged me, and something he refers to as "reaching through the dream" that never really convinced me much.
1. Chapter 1: Hello, Nancy

**Author's Note**

(Feel Free To Skip This)

Many people have praised the "Nightmare on Elm Street" franchise as a wonderful series, and it has gained a somewhat cult following over the years. Upon my perusal of the story and the movies themselves, I was intrigued by the idea of a killer that murders through dreams and is recognized by the bone-chilling singing of a children's jump-rope tune. I always thought, however, that while the movies were entertaining, they were not acted as well as I had hoped, and there were moments where I thought the powers of Freddy Krueger needed to be clarified. The first scene that displays questionable power involves the murder of a young woman in the first movie where her body is thrown and tossed around the room and Freddy's razors create physical wounds on her skin. Now unless Freddy Krueger was also a town psychokinetic, I do not think he should be able to make her float or bleed in the real world without external forces in play. I always believed the character of Freddy to be more than just a spirit with superpowers that allow him to gut his victims in mid air, but rather a nightmare that subconsciously causes people to kill themselves through their own actions. Even the remake had the first victim slit his own throat instead of having Freddy's blades slash him. To this end, I felt it might make others happy (at least those that share this view) to see a story where this is so. I always believed that a strong story had to be about something the writer is passionate about and that if the right words are written, a story can bring one more meaning than they can imagine. And thus, I intend to have this story take you on a trip through my personal vision of Frederick Charles Krueger.

New chapters will be released within a week after each other.

* * *

><p><em><strong>A Nightmare on Elm Street:<strong>_

_**The Sandman Awaits**_

* * *

><p>Chapter 1<p>

_**Hello, Nancy...**_

Nancy turned her eyes away from the steam spraying from the pipes and let her eyes focus ahead of her. _"Where am I?_" she wondered, and yet somehow she heard this very thought echo through the corridors of the cement boiler room. The air was close in this dark basement, and the only light emanated from the red emergency lights overhead. She tried strenuously to remember how exactly she got here, but it kept just out of her mind's reach. "_Whatever the reason, I need to find my way out_" she decided, taking her steps leisurely down the long hallway. The tepid air filled her lungs, almost making her felt sick, and she detected a strange smell. It was foul, like rancid meat and made her wonder where it could be coming from. However, something bored at her senses; an uneasiness, like she was being watched. Her heartbeat quickened as her pace continued to accelerate. She halted for a moment as her head turned to allow her eyes to scan the room. She saw nothing, yet she felt a pair of eyes burning holes in the back of her neck.. She simply could not shake this feeling from her head, yet she saw and heard nothing, other than the occasional whistling of the pressurized pipes or the dripping sound of water in the background.

"Nancy..."

Her name catapulted off the walls and through the hallway. As chills grew on her arms and neck she looked wildly about to find a sign of life anywhere, but still nothing could be found.

Then a whisper from the unforgiving darkness:

"What's your nightmare, Nancy?"

She could not stop herself; she ran like the Grim Reaper was following close behind. Her legs propelled her along the halls, but the voice followed as if it came from the walls around her. She could not bring herself to look over her shoulder, but instead kept on running without feeling the air pass her face. She did not know the way, but chose her path as she sprinted, dodging left around a corner and throwing herself along side paths, launching herself around each bend. She turned another corner, but this time there was something else there.

"One, two, Freddy's coming for you"

Three children slowly singing as they jumped rope. Nancy was about to ask them for help, but she felt her foot touch something. She looked down.

It was blood.

She screamed as she turned back to the children. All of them were bleeding from every part of their body. Large razor cuts bled through their dresses, but it was their eyes that truly scared Nancy.

Their eyes were missing.

"Three, four, better lock your door"

They sang on as Nancy plunged into terror and she ran the other way, but the song followed her like the dirge of her death.

"Five, six, grab a crucifix"

A sillhouette appeared on the wall at the end of the room. The pipes burst and Nancy felt blood spray from the broken pipes. Her screams couldn't come this time, but her legs kept moving.

"Seven, eight, better stay up late"

Nancy turned a corner and found herself at a dead end. She tried to calm herself down by listening intently to her heartbeat, but ultimately failed as it was impossible to ignore the noise that followed...

Footsteps.

She turned around and saw nothing but empty space down the corridor.

"Nine, ten, never sleep again."

She shook in fear as the footsteps grew silent. Her heart was beating a thousand times a minute, it felt. She waited.

Silence.

Then, on her shoulder, she felt a hand grip her. HIS hand. Too terrified to move her legs, she turned her head slowly.

"Yes. It's me again Nancy."

The shadows covered his face, but she new who it was. He had come for her before. He was always there waiting. Always waiting to torture her. Always waiting in the black fires of hell. Waiting with his shapeless hat, red and green sweater, and his glove...

His bloody, razor-fitted glove.

"Always me."

She could not speak. She could not scream. She never even managed a whisper. It was his world. No one could escape him in his own world.

"Don't worry Nancy, it hurts for a while, but soon it will be your life. An eternity of pain for you and for me... I get the greatest present of all: I get to hear you scream in agony and beg for mercy forever!"

Then he smiled. It was a smile with no warmth, no mercy, and not a speck of compassion. It was the smile of an executioner.

He was not a man; he was evil-incarnate.

"It's not real!" she screamed in terror.

"I'm more than real!" he cackled in his deep, threatening tone.

His grin stretched from ear to ear as he tore his bladed fingers into her eyes.

Then she awoke.

Nancy's screams were amplified in the small space of her room. Her eyes ripped open, still feeling impaled by those gloved fingers of her Sandman. Her demon.

The lights flashed on and blinded Nancy. She stopped screaming and knew now that her tormentor was gone. At least for now.

"_He can't follow me here._"

Her parents ran to her side.

"You had another bad dream tonight, didn't you?" her Mom inquired.

"Yeah Mom," Nancy replied, "Just a really bad dream."

"Just a nightmare."


	2. Chapter 2: The Boogeyman of Springwood

**Author's Note**

(Feel Free To Skip This)

I have never done a fan fiction before, so I was quite thrilled to see someone else shared my views! I too saw that it might be he is breaking through the borders of the dream world, but it still seemed too convenient for him to be able to perform physical acts as a spiritual presence. I appreciate your feedback however. I have seen what you have written and I must say I am impressed by the quality of writing. I strongly suggest to others that you look over her work, even if you are not a fan of the movies. Her stories will blow you away! In any case, I would like to state in the author's note for this chapter a personal thank you for reviewing my work. I would love any feedback you or anyone else has. Thank you very much. And now, I introduce you all to the second chapter. Enjoy!

A Nightmare on Elm Street:

The Sandman Awaits

_**A story by**_

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

_**Blackchain**_

Chapter 2

_**The Boogeyman of Springwood High...**_

The halls of Springwood High school were bustling with new gossip, which Nancy had no time to listen to. Ever since her nightmares had began, her grades in all of her classes have plummeted to an all time low. She would be too uneasy sitting in the open classroom, feeling that skin-crawling monster watching her. She left lights on in fear he might come out of the shadows. She just could not get a night's sleep without having that same dream. That same basement.

That same man.

Nancy's nightmares began a week ago, but she could not think of a single reason for it. She was fearful every time she felt like dozing off in class because she knew he would be waiting there. She was always too preoccupied with trying to stay awake that she could not keep her attention on her teachers. As a result she went in a single week from a straight A student to a B student, on a steady decline heading toward C+. If she did not solve the problem soon, her grades at the end of the year would so terrible she may not even graduate this year.

As she contemplated how to get her grades back up, the bell sounded and everyone rushed through the halls, pushing past her to get to each of their classes. In moments she was alone, standing by her locker in the hallway. She reached into her locker for her textbooks, but had a strange sense in her stomach all of a sudden. It was the same kind of feeling as being in free-fall over a chasm without a parachute. That perception of falling into horrors of unimaginable nature, and never being able to leave. Her hairs stood on end like a child stepping onto a theme park ride for the first time, chills ran through her like an electric current. Her anxiety grew as the passageway became silent, her heart pumping furiously. She had felt this before, but oddly she could not remember when. In fact, she could not remember getting dressed, eating breakfast, or making her way to school.

Her memories were gone.

Scouring the surrounding area in the height of her panic, she found to her dismay the classrooms had brick walls built into the doorways and wood planking over all the windows. Her eyes became teary and her heart was racing. She ran down the aisle seeking with all speed an open class, but every one of them was blocked off in one form or another. Some doors had been cemented off, others had disappeared entirely, but not one was open or unblocked. She began to tremble and sweat beaded down her brow. She began to feel that what she sought she would never find.

She began to hear something. A kind of scraping sound, like of knives cutting into wallboard.

The moment she turned her head she saw the blood, flowing like a crimson river across the floor. Hearing the splish-splash of the gore falling like tears from the eye holes of the slaughtered girls jumping rope and singing that same demonic chant.

"One, Two, Freddy's coming for you."

As she sped down the corridor with the haste of desperation, the sound of singing and scraping followed close behind her. She came to the end of the hall and found the custodian's closet, the door of which she threw open and ran inside. The grinding sound of the knives was coming closer and closer, but Nancy had no nerve left to look out of the door's vent. Instead, she cowered in the corner, assessing the best way she could find to wake up.

"It's a dream!" she told herself, "It's my dream. I need to wake up!"

She then felt a blade piercing her back, feeling the razor stabbing between her ribs and spilling her own blood, rolling down her chest A voice directly behind her spoke softly:

"No, it's my dream. It's your nightmare!"

The sound of Freddy's cackling echoed through the halls of the hellish high school once called Springwood. After his laughing only her screams could she hear as he ripped his blades out only to thrust them in again, over and over.

Nancy's body jolted awake from hearing her own cries of pain, which continued to echo throughout the classroom. The students around her wore faces of confusion and concern.

"Ms. Thompson! Calm down! What's the matter?" Mrs. McNeil cried out over Nancy's blood-curdling shrieks of agony and torment.

As Nancy's eyelids wrenched apart, her terror subsided and she was greeted by the disconcerted expressions of her 30 classmates. In fear and embarrassment she silently whispers to the teacher.

"May I be excused to the nurse's office?"

The teacher, uncertain what to do, nods acceptingly and stands aside as Nancy collected her books and hurriedly rushes herself to the office at the end of the hall. At the desk sits a thirty-seven year old woman with an unenthusiastic demeanor, sipping Earl Grey tea. Seeing the others waiting in the room, Nancy takes a seat near the window, pinching her arm so as not to fall asleep again. Even now she heard the voice of Freddy, cackling in his deep, devilish voice.

"You can't hide from me forever, Nancy Thompson."

No. She had to stay awake. She could not stand against those nightmares. They had already taken her nerve to walk without lights on. What would they take next?

Perhaps her sanity.

The next morning, after spending a sleepless night keeping her weary mind on the trivial matters of everyday life, Nancy begged her parents to take her to a psychiatrist. She needed a psychologically defined reason for her repeating visits to Freddy's fundamentally distorted world. If she couldn't find an answer, she might never get a nice, quiet night without enduring the torture induced by her good, pal Freddy.

Nancy had never really been to a psychiatrist before, but that had not stopped her from having a negative opinion on them. She believed that if someone checked the mind of every person at Springwood High, you are bound to find something perverse or corrupted in there no matter what. She had always dreaded the thought of meeting one of these doctors, but she still maintained that they are University Graduates, and so still capable of help, either through emotional analysis and contact or comforting her through the religious use of pharmaceutical products. If nothing else, maybe she can get a drug that could suppress her nightmares.

She arrived at twelve in the afternoon at the office of Psychologist Bernard Wilson. His analysis was comforting; he spent an hour questioning about "potential stressors" that could react negatively toward her. To ascertain the validity of this hypothesis, he decided to over analyze her entire life history, charging $300 for a session at the end of which he stated: "It is too soon to tell what the cause is of these bizarre dreams. You should come back every Friday for the next few months as I charge you the same amount per session as I interpret your dreams in order to investigate the deep recesses of your remarkably disturbed mind.

The next day, her mother called him, thanked him for his advise, declined his offer for more sessions, and asked him to refer her to a medical professional in the field of sleep deprivation.

"_I would not have been so clean_" Nancy thought to herself.

Thus she was roused, this sleepless nineteen year old girl, bright and early at seven o'clock for an appointment with a Doctor Karin Schiller at the Ohio Teaching Hospital of Mental Disorders. Or, as Nancy prefers to call it, the Institute of Hook-Her-Up-To-A-Machine-And-Have-Jello-Shots-As-She-Visits-Beelzebub's-Hellraising-Mentor. She dreaded returning to the boiler room, or the school for that matter, but the doctor informed her they could not do anything for her until there is definitive information on her mental condition during her REM Sleep Cycle.

Or something like that. Nancy had quite a bit of trouble catching everything in her exhaustion. Even standing was a major chore at this point. Her fatigue was debilitating; to keep herself awake she would pinch her skin so hard she would bleed down her arm. She would set her watch alarm to beep every five minutes so as to wake her if she were to accidentally fall asleep. She could barely function; she was simply not good at staying awake for so long. How did her friends do it?

In any case, here she sits. The area where the institute now rests used to be a church, until it was abandoned after several sightings of haunting imagery, such as ripped up people hanging from nooses and shadows that come for the spectators . Needless to say, she did not feel any amount more comfortable going into her nightmares upon hearing such chilling information.

"Don't worry. We will monitor your brain waves and physical reactions closely. We will wake you if you begin moving erratically, or if we find anything significant." the good doctor said, his eyes almost expressing pity.

Nancy answered with a tired, affirmative nod. She lay down on the sleep lab bed, her eyes scanning the wires leading to the sensors all over her face. The suction cups held on her face tightly, as if they were fingers caressing her skin. No, that thought only brought her thoughts to Freddy and his hellish razor glove. Many times he had caressed her skin before his evil cackle penetrated her shock and echoed in her mind as his razors slashed across her body in blood-hungry savagery..

"_I'm coming for you, you fucker._" Nancy thought to herself.

She was laying on the bed but her eyes refused to close, fearful of sleep. Fearful of Freddy. Even as she tried to close her eyes, attempting to bring the lead weights on her eyelids to rest, her mind screamed "NO!" and pried the eyes back open. She was certainly tired, as sleep deprived as could be, but she would not let herself dream.

She sat up, her eyes downcast, inspecting the cloth blanket resting upon her legs.

"I don't think I can sleep guys. Sorry."

Her eyes lifted to find the separate room behind the glass empty, devoid of personnel. Confused she looked around the room.

Standing in the corner was a little girl in a blue dress, staring at her with pupiless eyes. Crimson tears fell from the child as she mouthed a word, over and over. The same word, stuck in a loop of time.

"_Murder_"

Nancy, not sure whether to scream of run, sits in the bed, bolted upright like a chair fastened to the floor. The child then begins to hum a tune. A familiar tune.

"One, two, Freddy's coming for you"

Nancy shrieks as loud as she could, knowing full well that the world had already lost her and that no one could help her.

Then more singing to the right, by the window.

No, It was no longer a window, but a mirror. And inside the mirror she saw to her horrid dismay the bleeding skipping girls. Their eye holes, lidless, sought out her soul with the blackness that stands over the brink of the pits of hell, waiting for her to join them, their hands motioning slowly, inviting her to the depths of horror.

She felt hands grasping her legs like shackles, but saw no one. Dragging her across the floor toward the mirror, the invisible man holds her down before the mirror. Her eyes could not shut, as if the thing holding her down was forcing her eyes open. Her eyes stared deeply into the mirror, which abruptly burst in flame, not the mirror, but the scene inside it. She watched in stunned silence as the substance of the mirror became like that of boiling water, bubbles bursting forth from the mirror, melted glass splattering to the tiled floor. Her legs feel like they are burning already as the fires consume the girls as they scream in brutal agony and cry for help, their faces peeling like dried paint, skin on their hands dissolving off their bones, hair scorched to their scalps. Nancy cried out for them, adding to the tears and pain that the fire produced, and from the lake of flame that bathed and licked the flesh of the wailing girls rose the withered carcass of the Baron of Blood.

"I told you Nancy. You cannot escape your nightmares."

His smile stretched from ear to ear, the blood-soaked teeth accentuated by his burned flesh.

"Wake me up! Let me out!" Nancy screamed, and as her tears flew she saw the blood flowing over the tile work of the lab floor.

"No one can hear you, Nancy. No one can stop their dreams"

The blades tore through her neck and she could feel the cold steel tearing her throat in half, the blood pouring from her slit neck.

"You know the greatest part for me, Nancy?"

Her eyes began to blacken and her eyesight left her in the darkness with the unmerciful hellion. Her eyes were open, but she could not see.

"You can't die in a dream."

A million deep laughs pierced her heart, forcing out screams of untold agony as her resident fiend ripped the claws back and forth across her chest, tearing through her soft flesh while his cackling resounded through the laboratory.

"Wake up, Nancy!

Screaming continued as her vision returned. She could still feel the razors ripping apart her muscle and scraping across her bones. She felt the insides of her stomach being eviscerated, and yet she was gone from the dream. The doctor was screaming at her, yelling. Her ears tuned out her own shrieks of torture and tuned in his speech.

"There is nothing wrong! It's just a dream!"

Her screams stopped, her breathing slowed, and her heartbeat ended it's rampage.

"So Doc, what did you find!" She asks, frantically reaching for him like a child wishing to be held.

He hesitates.

"Well..."

"Yes?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

**Sorry guys! Life catches up to us all. The new chapter really will be available on January 30th, 2012. I Have extensive work to do over the holidays. See you all again then!**

****-o-o-o-o-o-o-****

****Sincerest apologies,  
><strong>**

**_Blackchain_**


	3. Chapter 3: Blood for Blood

**Author's Note**

(Feel Free To Skip This)

Allow me first to apologize to those of you reading this that waited and waited for this chapter; life catches up to us as writers when we immerse ourselves in our adventurous endeavors, and I am of no exception. Many personal ventures have been accomplished, life choices have been seized, and goals have been attained. My sincerest apologies to all of you, but I assure you they were all necessities. Now, as I mentioned in the previous chapter, I appreciate any and all feedback (provided it is constructive and not needless hate mail) in the form of reviews. If you have ideas as to how I might better my writing, a direction you would like to see it flow, or if you think it is worth it to write more horror stories, take a minute to jot down your thoughts and post them for my perusal. If you think it's bad, explain; if you think it's good, elaborate a little. Merely a request. In any case, I present my third chapter of this tour of mayhem and carnage. The fourth chapter may or may not be completed. I have not seen much activity, so I may choose to continue other endeavors. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

A Nightmare on Elm Street:

The Sandman Awaits

_**A story by**_

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

_**Blackchain**_

Chapter 3

_**...**_

Nancy cried out in the stale air of her frost-stricken bedroom as once more she escaped from the carnage of Freddy's dungeon, a familiar smell stinging her nose even as she woke. Every night, the same place. Every night she ran as her lungs wheezed and her eyes watered, burned from the ashes that floated in the wretched basement. Every night she would be cast into the rapids of utmost terror. Every night she would fall asleep after hours of lying awake, alertness lent to her in the caressing darkness from the fear that flowed within her terror-plagued mind; then every morning she would awaken in shrieks of agony and dread, exhausted from a sleepless night of butchery and odious remarks from her brutal slaughterer. Every night the children would visit her; the others like her.

The children whose lives Freddy had ripped away.

She wandered the halls of the school, which bustled with the activities of every day life and spreading gossip. Three women in the doorway of the Senior History class argued with each other on whether their men are good lovers or should stick with masturbation, as one on a cellular phone speaks to her boyfriend, praising him for the previous night, then waving obscene motions to her comrades. Two men across the hall debate on which one of them is the most beloved whore monger, while keeping up their boasts that their members exceed the standard measurements of a yard stick. Other conversations of studies and experiences permeated the corridors of this building, once dedicated to the education of these under-concerned, over-privileged, reputation-hungry squanders of time. Strangely, Nancy felt no interest in the day to day activities or the gossip she once longed to listen to. Instead, in some way, an absence was filled after facing her nightmares for so long. She felt no interest in anything or anyone this morning. She merely breached the trivial nonsense that the others were concerned with, and with all her might fought the urge to burst into anguished tears.

_He's playing with me, like a cat with a mouse_.

She passed through the doorway of the library with downcast eyes, trying to focus on the details of the fibers of the carpeting and avoid the glances of her peers, fearful that they might comment on her darkly encircled eyelids or her nervous forgetting.

"NANCY! HEY!" a shrill voice called out, penetrating the comforting solitude of Nancy's focus and turning her attention to the young blonde girl she had befriended for her five years of high school. Dressed in a small white blouse and slightly-worn blue jeans, Tina Gray was the only person in the school that she actually felt like talking to.

"Where have you been? I haven't seen you in days!" she called out in what seemed like a wistful tone.

"Yeah, I've been dealing with some serious problems. I've got a lot to say." Nancy replied.

"Let's get a table. I've got something to talk about too..."

Almost without will, Nancy sat on her ard wooden chair and stared with half-open eyes at her friend who, oddly, had tears rolling down her face.

"What's wrong, Tina?"

"You know...that guy I've been seeing? Rod?"

The tears flowed faster yet as her stuttering voice let out a nearly inaudible mumble. Nancy could not make out much but what she did hear hit her cold like a hammer on ice.

Suicide.

An intensely thick fog of silence shrouded the two girls for ages.

From what Nancy could understand, Tina was at Rod's home, making out on his bed after a long day together. Suddenly he stood and gently brushed her off with a light push and sat her down in front of him. He looked at her, immediately serious, and told her not to move, and that he would be right back. He walked downstairs and Tina lay on his bed waiting for him, somewhat confused. At the sound of what seemed like a temper tantrum, she heard a choking sound. Afraid he was hurt, she ran downstairs to find him sliding a large chef's knife across his arms. Tina screamed in terror as he finished slicing markings and letters into his chest and finally plunged the knife deeply into his chest. As he fell to the floor, Tina's screams made the neighbors call 911, while she immediately called an ambulance while his blood pooled on the floor. They used three pints of blood, but by the time he ended up in the emergency room he was already cold.

This information scared Nancy enough, but what scared her most was what Tina cried out next.

He had cut his own eyes out.

A cold dread crawled through Nancy's body and the room went blank. She stood in the blank space of time and felt nothing but the utter terror that had taken her by the shoulders.

_He knew._

_He saw Freddy._

The funeral took place on a rainy evening. The polished black casket housing the battered corpse of her once friend Rod Lane was was carried through the mud by six struggling pallbearers, the sodden earth moistened further by the tears of the Lane Family, Tina, and Nancy herself. Where the tears of those around her reflected their loss, Nancy's tears reflected her fear that she was not far behind.

_"I'm still hurting him, Nancy!"_

_I know, Freddy. I know._

_"And I'll be seeing you again soon, Nancy. I promise!"_

The scratching sound of those razors echoed in her mind, and she could almost hear the horrific screams of Rod as Freddy tore at him in his ruthless brutality, tearing pieces from him without the simple mercy to kill him. She could feel the thick spray of his blood as it splattered from the twitching slab of barely living meat that Freddy desecrated in blitheness and glee. The taste of the ash that surrounded the dreaded skinner still dwell upon her taste buds, the humid atmosphere of his barbarous domicile still made her brow sweat from the heat of the boilers therein. She nearly lost herself in that demonic den, if Tina had not noticed her troubled expression and spoken to her, snapping from her reverie.

"It's so bizarre" she uttered in a lamenting voice, like that of a widow who has lost her husband.

Nancy's mind snapped back to attention, her eyes on the fresh grave wherein her friend lay, unable to see the tears of his lover, which streamed down the face of the lovely Tina Gray.

"What is?" Nancy returned.

"That I can't walk upstairs without drowning in tears, whereas you can stand in front of a grave and not cry once!" She sobbed, walking speedily away.

_I'll be seeing him again sooner than you, Tina._

She stood over the grave as it was being slowly buried beneath dirt and grime, only the head still visible. Nancy bent down, and on the casket head she left a small, sealed envelope.

A little greeting to Freddy.

Nancy felt her face.

Not one tear.

She stood still a moment.

Not one quiver.


	4. Chapter 4: A Maelstrom of Blood

**Author's Note**

(Feel Free To Skip This)

Less than perfect weather on the Western Front. I no longer have the enthusiasm to continue this story, as it reflects recent tragedies in my family. It took me this long just to come to terms with what happened, so please do not feel betrayed. I leave you with what I had accomplished for the fourth chapter to The Sandman Awaits, and apologise that it is not complete. It may never be now.

A Nightmare on Elm Street:

The Sandman Awaits

_**A story by**_

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

_**Blackchain**_

Chapter 4

_**A Maelstrom of Blood**_

The pelting of the rain clipped the house as wind battered the barren cage that encased a tormented shade of a woman. The shadows cast from the moonlight made eerie phantoms on the walls of her once-undamned haven, dancing like malignant spirits after a feast of fresh carrion. The lights seemed to be of no comfort; they barely illuminated a third of the long hallway leading to her room; the cell where Freddy awaited her. Her eyes scanned frantically as she pinched her arm harshly in an attempt to acertain that she remained in the reality she knew would not last long, and that she would miss ever-after. Her grip was too tight, however, and she slit her flesh with her fingernails, drawing a few drops of blood that fell silently and unnoticedly to the carpet. The crimson droplet stained the fibers like an evil warding post that warned any venturing near that they have entered the blank domicile of madmen and the murdered.

Nancy shivered to the rythm of the creaks her floor as the air from the window at the end of the hall errupted a clean, grassy smell into the stale air of her suburban pit. She could taste the smell of the roses outside her window wafting to her nose, lending a trifle of comfort, but all she could visualze when she closed her eyes was Freddy. As she neared the door she could almost feel his breath on her neck as he pressed his clawed hand against the small of her back, gave a slow twist and ripped the hellish blades into her flesh...

She shivered off the feeling, lest she lose herself in the images and fall asleep right there in the hall; Freddy had no qualms about hunting her through her house, as she would only ever end up in his cellar. Throughout the week, Nancy's life had become a brackish stream of social reclusion and horrid journal entries, constantly awake in fear of being killed by Freddy another time. Two weeks without going to school and people thought she was lucky, but pouring hot coffee on her arms and alcohol on her deep razor incisions in the back of her leg to stay aware were common events. She had second degree burns on her arm, and deep razor cuts that had been bandaged up from this week alone, but she didn't care; her reality had become Freddy.

_My reality is Freddy_, Nancy thought with sudden inspiration.

_My reality is my life..._


End file.
